


Our Oaths, Realized

by HerRoyalNonsense



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerRoyalNonsense/pseuds/HerRoyalNonsense
Summary: Queen Daenerys feels little as she unravels the depth and truth of Lord Varys' betrayal.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Our Oaths, Realized

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say. This scene was haunting me, so I had to write it. Occurs after Tyrion warns Daenerys that Varys has betrayed her, if it's not obvious.
> 
> /
> 
> "What have I told you, Martha?"
> 
> "The greater the risk, the greater the reward."
> 
> "Go on, they'll be missing you in the kitchen."
> 
> /

I spent hours watching the tides below me. Hours upon hours of watching how, in the midst of this wicked, wretched storm they turned into great waves of angry blacks and blues. How they crashed violently against the rocks that littered the shoreline. In their own way, the waves reminded me of Viserion's icy flames, with Rhaegal's body buried in deep in the sea below them.

Cersei will pay for what she has done. I could spend all night watching the waves, and thinking of a million ways in which to destroy Cersei Lannister. If I had a reason to believe she still cared for her brother, I'd have Grey Worm gut the Kingslayer and lay his innards at her feet.

I'd have Grey Worm do the same for Tyrion, if she cared the slightest bit at all.

She did not. She cared only for power. That I could take from her.

She had given me emptiness, and despair. Giving her horror was the least I could repay her.

Nobody has come to me; not since my child was slaughtered in the sky, or my closest friend executed brutally before my eyes. They send faces to perhaps make sure I've not dug slits into my wrists or flung myself into the waters below. But they never come. They never offer empty words of kindness or solace. I would give anything for Jon Snow to embrace me, to tell me that everything will be alright. It will be over soon, and I will be Queen at last. But, like the rest, he is so fearful.

A timid knock on my chamber door wretched me from my thoughts. I didn't respond. I wanted nothing from no one at that moment. But the knocking continued.

I closed my eyes and sighed, my temples flaring at the interruption. "What is it?"

"Your Grace, it's your supper," said the little voice of the young girl who had been delivering my food for the past several days. I don't recall what her name was. I never asked. I suppose I never cared to know, my thoughts so muddled by the loss of Ser Jorah, Missandei, and Rhaegal.

"I'm not hungry. Take it away."

"Your Grace. Lord Varys is concerned for you. He wants me to make sure you are eating."

Grey Worm had been so silent for hours, standing there in attention as I despaired, so silent that I did not know he was there, although somehow I knew well enough to turn to him then. My guardian. My last protector. My last companion, apart from my one surviving child.

"My Queen," he said, as sternly as always. It was a warning. His soldiers had been keeping an eye on the girl, and they knew now that she had been sent by Lord Varys to deliver my meals to me. I knew now from Tyrion himself that Lord Varys had conspired to betray me. The precise extent of the betrayal, I did not know.

"You may come in," I called out, holding my commander's eyes as the girl opened the door and crept inside.

"Your Grace," the girl said, curtseying as I turned to her, and made quickly to place the plate down on the table. She tried to flee away, but I had questions.

"What is for supper?"

"Um, mutton, your Grace."

I walked over to the table to look at it. She was right. A considerable slab of mutton, with some roasted carrots and potatoes. "I don't like mutton very much."

"Your Grace-"

"What's your name, girl?"

"Martha, Your Grace."

"Martha," I repeated. "You're very skinny, Martha, and I'm not very hungry. Take a seat. Eat."

"Your Grace, I would never presume-"

"Nonsense, child. You are not presuming anything. Sit."

I watched the girl keenly as she took a seat in front of the offered plate. "Your Grace, I- I'm not very hungry."

"This is mutton. You might never have another chance to taste it again."

"Yes, yes, I know, Your Grace, but I am not – Your Grace, I am only a serving girl. I am not worthy of-"

I frowned, and I understood. "You would deny food that is offered to you, freely, by your own Queen?"

"No, no, of course not," the girl said, picking up the fork and the knife. I watched her hands tremble as she held the utensils in them.

In that moment I knew. I knew, but I did not want to believe it was true. I did not want to believe that Lord Varys would betray me like this. But I had to know for certain.

She kept looking at me. Her eyes begged me to tell her something. Her pretty eyes begged for mercy. To tell her to put down her knife and her fork. Tell her to stop, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan surely would have advised me, if they were still here to advise. Missandei, sweet Missandei, would have no doubt been horrifed by my violence and my turbulence towards an innocent. I knew that. But none of that mattered anymore. 

"Eat," I ordered in a whisper.

I should have stopped her. There was once a time I would have. Instead, I encouraged her to continue. She cut the meat into pieces, sloppily. She probably never had to cut meat to eat it before. I reckon she ate most of her meat in little pieces in stews and soups.

A deep chill whipped through the open window, causing the wooden shutters to bang against the thousand-year stone. I wrapped my black night gown tighter about myself, well aware that both Martha and Grey Worm were dressed significantly warmer than I was.

Grey Worm noticed my discomfort, and tended to the fire.

"How old are you, Martha?"

"Nine, your Grace."

"Nine."

Nothing more was said for a while. Nothing more needed to be said, I suppose. Silence, and the harsh crackle of the stoked fire was all the sounds shared between the three of us.

The girl pushed the food about her plate, still unable to quell the tremor in her hand. "Tomorrow is my name day," she said, quietly, taking another small bite. I watched as her eyes began to gloss over, as her tears filled them.

I might have felt for the child, if I could feel anything but the harsh bitterness of betrayal. "On my tenth name day, by brother was taking me to Braavos on a ship," I said, turning back to Grey Worm. "I remember saying to him, how wonderful it would be to be a sailor. How free."

A clatter and a gasp at the table. I could not look. I would not look.

"My brother twisted my hair in his fist so hard I thought he'd ripped it right from my scalp. I… wept for hours that day, for it hurt so much." I whispered, as a thud of a little body hitting the hard stone behind me crashed through my ears like the waves hitting the shore outside.

"You never had a name day, Torgo Nudho."

"No, your Grace."

"I am sorry. Please bring Lord Varys to me on the cliffs in an hour. This day shall be his last."

Grey Worm nodded, solemnly. "Your Grace."

I walked over to the girl on the ground after Grey Worm had left us, and I felt nothing. Nothing but a gnawing emptiness. Just more of the same, I believe Jon had said once.

Varys didn't keep his oath to me. He betrayed me, although he promised me he wouldn't.

I will keep my oath to him tonight.


End file.
